


all the stars in texas

by wilfre



Series: an island on xinareth [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, WE HAVE TO GET THE BULLET OUT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 06:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilfre/pseuds/wilfre





	all the stars in texas

Feliks found himself staring straight down the barrel of a gun.

"Hands up," the guard commanded, and he obeyed. Chrys started to reluctantly put his hands up as well, but significantly faster once the gun turned to him.

"What are your names?" The gun turned back to Feliks.

"Simon," he said, without hesitation. Chrys barely stifled a snort, and the guard, obviously displeased, roughly jabbed him with the end of his gun. Feliks' expression hardened as Chrys let out a whine.

"Shut up."

"Don't talk to him like that," Feliks snarled, catching the guard off.. guard. Before the man had time to react, Feliks rushed forward, headbutting him in the face. Chrys cringed at the sickening crunch, and hoped it didn't come from his boyfriend.

"Quick!" Feliks took Chrys by the hand, and the two began to speed down the hallway. Chrys stole a quick glance at the other man, getting a glimpse of dark purple dripping from his nose, but bright red splattered across the rest of his face. The broken bones must've belonged to the guard, thank the Gods.

Suddenly, just as they were about to turn the corner, there was another noise — a loud 'pop', and Feliks toppled over, bringing Chrys down with him.

"FUCK!" he screeched, hitting the ground and clutching his leg.

 _Oh, Gods — No —_ Chrys thought, getting up as quick as he could. He saw dark purple blood sprayed across the wall and floor and beginning to pool around Feliks.

"Feliks, get up, please!" He helped his boyfriend to his feet; Feliks almost immediately crumpled to the floor again, but gritted his teeth and clung to Chrys for support. "It's okay, you can do it.. I - I think the exit's right here-"

A few more wobbly steps, and they pushed past the doors, into the cool night air.

"Feliks," Chrys whispered urgently, patting the other man's cheek, who was starting to look a little out of it. He'd had his fair share of shots before, but his nosebleed, of all things, was making him feel woozy. The thought of healing himself had escaped his mind at the moment. "There's some cars. Should we.. Should we try to take one? I don't think runnings really an opt-"

The door opened behind them.

In that split second, they made their decision.

They rushed over to the closest car, the guard in pursuit. Feliks, finding his strength, limped over to the passenger side while Chrys' hand flew for the driver's side handle. He could've cried in relief as the door opened, quickly sliding into the seat and locking the door. Feliks was already inside and had locked the other three.

"Are there keys?" Chrys asked, frantically opening the center console.

"Check the glovebox," Feliks replied, voice strained, leaning back and clutching his ankle.

"Nevermind, I got them!-" The keychain jingled as Chrys pulled it from the jumble of miscellaneous items. He stuck the car key in the ignition and turned it just as the guard pounded on the window, cracking it.

Chrys yelped, instantly slamming on the gas pedal. With nowhere else to go, he began speeding towards the woods, carefully maneuvering around the trees and bushes.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, they had found a path; it was narrow, but enough to keep them from being caught in the foliage.

"We've been driving for a while now.." Chrys murmured. He had lost track of time, but surely it had to be around an hour.

"Think we should take a break for a while, amante?"

"What if they find us?" He was uncertain, but started slowing down anyway, and cautiously pulled into a clearing. It was eerily quiet, apart from the soft chirps of crickets.

He parked and sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. He reached over and entwined his fingers with Feliks'.

"You okay?"

Feliks smiled, squeezing his hand. "I will be."

An idea formed in Chrys' head, and he leaned over to give his partner a kiss before voicing it.

"I'm gonna check the trunk to see if there's anything of use, okay? Check the glovebox for me, we never did look in there for anything."

Feliks nodded, and Chrys pushed the button to pop the trunk before unlocking his door and heading out.

He hummed to himself as he inspected the contents of the trunk, saving the biggest and most mysterious thing, a cooler, for last. The only things from the mess he deemed worthy were a few knives and some towels. With that, he opened the cooler.

"Oh, man. Feliks is gonna love this."

When Chrys returned, Feliks was gleefully holding up a medkit.

"Ooh, nice." Chrys placed the towels and knives on the dashboard. "I have something else for you..."

He revealed a bottle of whiskey.

"Oh, thank the fucking Gods."

Chrys giggled as he handed the bottle over, Feliks immediately unscrewing it and taking a swig.

"We should move to the back seat to work on my leg, no?" he suggested, taking another drink.

"There's more room - It'd be more comfortable, even if it'll be a bit of a pain for me to get back there."

Feliks got out of the car and limped into the backseat, taking the medkit with him, and placing his drink into the cupholder. Chrys simply climbed over the center console, bringing the towels and knives with.

"Okay," he huffed, settling down, "let's have a look at that leg."

Chrys flicked on the light. With semi-shaking hands, Feliks carefully started rolling up his pant leg. He winced as it passed the wound.

"Shit," he hissed, wiping blood, dried and fresh alike, from the area. "The bullet didn't go through all the way. Fuck."

He picked up the whiskey again and took a big drink, tears of pain and frustration prickling at the corner of his eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay..!" Chrys reassured, in the soft, loving tone they'd used on each other countless times. "You're gonna be fine, alright? We can get it out tonight, baby.."

Feliks sniffled, putting his bottle back down before he motioned Chrys closer, wrapping an arm around him and resting his cheek against the top of Chrys' head, taking comfort in the touch and warmth and sweet, familiar scent of his lover.

"I'm just glad you're not hurt. Glad we made it out alive.." Feliks hummed, running his fingers through the other's hair. "Glad I didn't try to heal my leg - fuck, if the skin had regrown over the bullet.."

Suddenly overcome with emotion, he let out a sob, pulling Chrys even closer and holding him even tighter.

"Feliks, it's okay..! Babe, shh, shhh, it's okay," Chrys repeated, returning the embrace and trying to console him, gently rubbing his back and running a hand through his hair. "It's okay... It's okay, Feliks, I'm here - I love you."

His crying eventually reduced to sniffles, which in turn reduced to slow, but shaky breaths.

"I love you too, Chrys... Now help me get this damn bullet out of my leg."

They both chuckled at that, and Chrys got to work. He took a bottle of rubbing alcohol fron the medkit, and carefully poured it on the wound, cleaning the area completely with one of the towels. Feliks hissed and took another swig from his whiskey, which he had picked up a moment ago without hesitation.

"I don't think it's gonna be hard to get out, amante. It didn't look that deep, just — ow — it'll just hurt a lot." When Chrys gave him a worried look, he added, "Nothing I can't handle! I just want it out. Do it."

"How do I.. Uhh.." Chrys nervously looked around at all the knives. "I don't wanna hurt you even more-"

"It's fine," Feliks assured, looking over the blades. "Hold on, I think there was a pair of scissors… Oh, here-"

He handed Chrys the small pair of scissors from the medkit.

"Those should be good. Try and pull it out as careful as you can — I can always heal if something goes wrong, but.. Anyway, I'm ready, amante."

He picked up a knife, placing the handle between his teeth.

Both of them took a deep breath.

Well... Chrys thought, hesitantly holding the scissors over the wound. It's now or never.

He dug the blades in, heart sinking at the strangled cry of pain from his partner.

"It's okay, it's okay," Chrys reassured, trying to focus on the injury. He angled the scissors, earning another whine, and gripped the bullet between the two blades. "I got it, baby, it's almost over, you're doing great.."

Feliks reached out and gripped Chrys' thigh tightly as his partner pulled the bullet from his flesh with extreme caution. In the process, he let the knife fall from his mouth, which thankfully didn't cut either of them, and hissed out a string of jumbled curse words.

"Feliks? Are you okay?"

He felt Chrys gently shaking him by the shoulder.

"It's out."

He opened his eyes, which he hadn't realized were closed, and saw his boyfriend looking very worried, to say the least. They both breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm alright." Feliks chuckled, leaning forward and cupping a hand over the wound. "Thank the Gods.

Give me a moment."

Chrys nodded, cleaning up while he gave the other man a minute to focus on healing himself. He couldn't help but look back at Feliks every few seconds. It wasn't his fault his boyfriend was so darn cute, looking so peaceful and concentrated, and so irresistible, Chrys would've kissed him right then—

"You're staring, amante."

Chrys' face immediately enveloped in a deep pink blush.

"Oh - So I was."

Feliks flashed those alluring grins of his, and as if they had both read each other's minds, they wrapped their arms around each other, with lips passionately pressed together. Feliks tasted like whiskey and, well, a little bit of blood, which was odd on its own and even an odder combo, but it was him and it was amazing and —

Chrys pulled away first, realizing he desperately needed air.

"Geez," he huffed in amusement to himself, "I genuinely forgot I needed to breathe."

Feliks laughed - that beautiful, intoxicating laugh - and took Chrys' hand, placing it against his own cheek.

"I'm so in love with you."

Chrys' blush spread even more across his face, and he pressed his forehead against his boyfriend's.

"Aw, you have a crush on me? Like, you like like me?" He giggled as Feliks playfully and lightly punched him in the arm and added, "I'm so in love with you, too."

They sat like that for a minute, eyes closed, free hands delivering comforting touches, calmly listening to the other breathe.

"I'm tired," Feliks murmured eventually, sitting up and stretching with a too-cute yawn. Chrys gave him a sympathetic smile and ruffled his hair.

"I bet. There weren't any blankets in the trunk but.. I guess we could use those towels."

"Or we could use each other." Feliks gave Chrys a quick kiss, right on the corner of his mouth, pulling away with a smirk before he started to tidy up the area.

"Hey! You-" Chrys playfully grabbed Feliks by his shirt, pulling him back. "Get back here and give me a real kiss."

Feliks pursed his lips, the corners of his mouths tugging up in another smug smile, watching Chrys with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tried, in vain, to get a real kiss. Eventually, or rather, when Chrys started to pout, Feliks gave in, giving his boyfriend a 'real', loving kiss. He grinned at the look of pure joy on the other man's face.

"Ready to hit the hay now?" Feliks asked, picking up two of the larger towels. Chrys scoffed as he picked up his.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Chrys hesitated for a second before leaning forward and laying his head on his partner's chest. "So was using each other as blankets a real offer? Can we.. Can we sleep back here and I'll sleep on top of you?" Feliks grinned and adjusted his position before fully pulling the other man onto himself and wrapping his arms around him.

"Of course." 

"Good night, Feliks."

"Good night, Chrys."

The sounds of their own soft breathing lulled them to sleep.


End file.
